A Day in Your Shoes, Literally
by Idrelle Miocovani
Summary: One-shot. Padmé's complaints of foot pain have fallen on deaf ears. Now Anakin must find a way to avoid explaining to Obi-Wan as he struggles through a day of training in the temple wearing Padmé's bright pink pumps.


I found this while digging through old fic files. Re-reading it, I thought it was a fun piece and that I might as well put it up (not sure if I've had this up here previously or not). This was written way back in 2006 as a birthday present for one of my friends. It's a one-shot and just some silly randomness. :-p Enjoy!

* * *

**A Day in Your Shoes… Literally **

Jeweled gowns. Elaborate headdresses. Intricate hairstyles. Elegant makeup. Expensive jewelry. Such was the wardrobe of the Senator of Naboo – it was necessary for her to be dressed appropriately for her work, and the word appropriate in this context implied that she be dressed with as much elegance and beauty as the royalty of any planet.

No one ever mentioned how much pain Padmé Amidala had to go through to be dressed as the Nubian Senator.

She could stand the coatings of makeup (she had, after all, been through worse make-up days when she had been the Queen of Naboo); she was used to the elaborate hairstyles that made her head feel like it was on fire; the headdresses that made her head feel like it should be squished on to her shoulders could be dealt with by a perfectly straight posture; the heavy, jeweled gowns, so large and striking were the easiest to ignore, even though it took her at least twenty minutes to put one on.

The largest problem with her wardrobe was perhaps the smallest article: her shoes. Padmé wished that she could somehow pass a law saying that all Senators should be allowed to wear the most comfortable pair of shoes in the Galaxy, even if they looked completely horridly with their outfit.

But no! Everything that the Senator wore had to be exquisitely perfect in looks. Padmé had shoes beyond the counting, one pair for each of her dresses. They were all beautiful things – no doubt, they looked nice on a shelf in the store. They came from the simplest pair of one solid colour, to the most elegant made with shimmering silk and with slender little heels, to the most daring with their brightly patterned sides, to the most extravagant with little jewels sewn into the sides. No matter how nice her shoes looked, Padmé could not get over the simple fact that they all had extraordinarily high heels, they were all very narrow, and the majority of them ended in points so sharp she could have speared her shurra fruit with them. All in all, they hurt her feet, and that was that.

Each day, Padmé went through the same ritual. Every single hour when she was out in public wearing the silly things, she had to pretend that her feet weren't aching or feeling like they were being slowly sawed off by a lightsaber. She wished she could be free to grimace at the pain, but no! No grimacing for the Senator of Naboo. She had to grin and bear it.

And so it was that one day Padmé stumbled into her apartment – nearly loosing her balance and falling in a heap on the floor because of the weight of her assorted garments and accessories – looking very beautiful, but in almost unbearable pain.

Balancing on one foot and leaning against the wall, Padmé lifted up one of her injured feet and took off the offending shoe – a particularly vicious pink extravagancy. She gave her toes a good wiggle and set her foot back down on the floor. The soft carpet definitely felt nice and soft. She quickly tore off the other shoe and threw it unceremoniously on the floor.

Padmé stood happily for a moment on her carpet, wiggling her toes joyously in the softness, greatly enjoying the feeling. The pink shoes lay glumly on the floor. Padmé glared at the offensive things.

Slowly, she limped over to her shoes, picked them up and carried them into her sitting room, where she sat down on one of her most comfortable couches and tossed the pink pumps on to the table. For a moment the heels resembled little pink daggers.

Padmé sighed grouchily and crossed her legs, massaging one of her feet.

"Since when do Senators use their spare time to inspect for foot diseases?" a familiar voice said jokingly.

"Ani!" Padmé looked up and found her Jedi husband looking down at her, grinning from ear to ear.

Anakin walked over and sat down on the couch opposite to hers. "What's wrong with your foot?" he asked.

Padmé daintily held out her foot for him to see. "Look! There are blisters all over that one."

Anakin made a face. "Your feet smell."

Padmé's eyebrows went up. "Excuse me?"

He shrugged. "Simple fact of life, Padmé. All feet smell."

"At least mine smell better than yours," she retorted, putting her foot back down and massaging her other one. Both feet were very red and marked with deep indents where the sides of her shoes had been digging into the skin. There were also many blisters forming on her toes; there was a particularly nasty one under her big toe on her right foot.

_"Why_ are your feet like that?" Anakin asked curiously, lounging in the couch.

Padmé glanced up from her massaging session. "Look at the table and you'll find the most devilish pair of shoes in the entire galaxy."

Anakin followed her gaze and stared at the innocent-looking pink pumps.

"Shoes?" he inquired dubiously, raising an eyebrow. "A pair of ordinary shoes?"

Padmé snorted. "Those aren't ordinary shoes!"

"A shoe is a shoe," Anakin said matter-of-factly.

Padmé put her foot down and looked across the table at her husband. "No," she said with the air of an adult explaining something very simple to an over-excited two-year-old. "There's a shoe and then there's _a_ shoe. _That_ particular pair of shoes are women's shoes, Anakin. That means that they look nice, but they _kill_ our feet."

"Huh?"

Anakin was being incredibly unperceptive today.

"Why is it that those being women's shoes means that they kill your feet?" he asked dumbly. "Shoes are shoes. They're not supposed to hurt your feet – you just wear them to stop yourself from hurting your feet some other way."

Padmé rolled her eyes. "All right, Anakin," she said, folding her arms and looking straight at him. "If you don't believe me, _you_ try wearing those for a day."

Anakin stared at her for a moment as if she had gone completely mad and then laughed. "You're kidding, right?"

Padmé shook her head with complete seriousness. "No, I'm not joking," she told him firmly. She lent forwards and picked up the shoes. "Wear them tomorrow." She tossed them across the table at him. Anakin caught them with a startled look. "I dare you."

Anakin chuckled. "All right, _all right_. I'll wear them. But they're not going to fit me."

Padmé shrugged. "So?"

"How can I wear something that doesn't fit my feet?"

She rolled her eyes. "That has nothing to do with this, Anakin. Just wear them. We'll switch shoes for the day."

Anakin threw his hands up in the air. "Anything you want, dear."

When Anakin rolled out of bed the following morning, he was very happy. Last night had been the one time in the last few weeks when he had actually been able to sleep properly. Stretching luxuriously, he got dressed, snatched a bite to eat and then when looking for his shoes.

That was when his mood quite literally fell out of the air like two dead insects.

His comfortable Jedi boots were gone.

And he had a feeling of who had taken them.

He spent the next fifteen minutes searching every crook and cranny in the apartment, his spirits dropping like a crashing shuttle. Padmé was _very_ good at hiding things she didn't want him to find. His boots were gone and he knew that he wasn't going to be getting them back any time soon.

Giving up the searching idea, he strode back into their bedroom and shook his wife awake.

"What is it Anakin?" Padmé mumbled sleepily.

"Where are my shoes?" he hissed.

Padmé opened her eyes groggily. "Shoes? Over there." She pointed lazily with one finger

Anakin followed her finger and threw his hands up in the air.

"No! _My_ shoes – _my boots!_ Not pink pumps!"

Padmé's head fell back on her pillow and she rolled over. "Those _are_ your shoes, Ani," she said drowsily. "Now put them on and get down to the Temple."

Anakin gave what could be considered a manly shriek and picked up Padmé's high heels.

"These are _your_ shoes," he said pointedly, waving them in her face.

She didn't say anything. Her eyes were closed and she appeared to be sleeping again.

Anakin waved his arms. "Women!"

Muttering angrily about manipulative wives and the evilness of all shoes, Anakin sat down and, making a face, shoved his feet into his wife's tiny pink pumps. Surprisingly, they fit – none too well, after all, but at least he could squeeze his feet into them. He stood up and walked clumsily over to the mirror. The bright pink material flashed appealingly as he walked. He sighed. Well, if he was going to have to wear shoes, they might as well look nice.

But pink really wasn't his colour.

Trying to make the best of it, Anakin walked towards the door and grinned. He seemed to be able to walk more nicely in them than Padmé herself. He opened the door.

And promptly fell flat on his face into the hallway.

"Have a nice day, Ani," Padmé murmured.

* * *

As Anakin Skywalker made his grand entrance into the Jedi Temple, he was still having difficultly walking. He was now coming to fully appreciate women for the pain that they went through every day as they had to dress in mountains of lace and walk in wobbly, pointed, foot crushing shoes. How they did it, he didn't know. He was a Jedi and even _he_ couldn't do it.

Of course, there was the fact that he was having trouble hiding his footwear. He was not going to allow himself to be seen walking through the Jedi Temple halls wearing bright pink and very feminine-looking footwear. This had prompted him to stoop just a bit, so the hems of his pants and cloak trailed on the floor, covering his feet. However, this caused him to trip and stumble – something that he was doing anyway as he wobbled to and fro, trying to find a way to balance as he walked on tooth-pick thin heels.

He was attracting a lot of attention as he stumbled down the hall.

"Having trouble with your feet, Skywalker?" one Jedi shot at him.

"Yeah, they don't seem to want to work today," he called back and grumpily stomped down to the training rooms.

Obi-Wan was waiting for him, as usual. When he entered, he immediately seemed to sense that something was wrong.

"Anakin," he said severely, "what have you done to your feet?"

"Nothing, Master," Anakin replied, trudging past.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything.

They followed their normal morning routine of lightsaber practice – Anakin usually found starting the morning with a healthy duel to be the best way to get started, but today it wasn't quite as fun. As he ignored the pain blossoming in his feet every time he took a step, his found his movements to be severely limited by Padmé's stupid shoes. He found himself more and more frequently merely standing and parrying than actually moving. It wasn't long before Obi-Wan managed to knock him over with a well-placed blow, sending Anakin tumbling to the floor, head over heels.

He landed with a thump, his lightsaber rolling away. Wincing, he stood up gingerly and went to retrieve his lightsaber.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan's voice called, "what are you doing wearing women's shoes?"

He froze. How was he going to explain this to Obi-Wan?! He couldn't mention Padmé; that would obviously arouse suspicion.

"Um…" he said. "Um…"

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.

"I…" said Anakin, fishing for words. "It's a dare."

"A dare?" Obi-Wan inquired.

"Yeah!" Anakin said, nodding vigorously as he searched for a good Padawan to pin the bulk of his lie on. "Reine Mallix dared me to wear…" Anakin's voice drifted off as he watched his master's lips twitch slightly. He was seeing straight through this lie. Anakin gulped.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said calmly, "would you mind telling me _why_, exactly, Reine Mallix wanted you to wear her most exuberant footwear?"

Anakin's mind whirled as he tried to think of a good reason. Reine Mallix was a young Padawan in her mid-teens who was overly fond of fashion and style, but Anakin couldn't think of a reason why she would part with a pair of shoes.

"Um…"

Obi-Wan waved a hand. "Never mind. This dare is quite obviously affecting your performance. You'll have to do without shoes for today."

"Master!" Anakin exclaimed. Now that Obi-Wan mentioned it, the obvious thing for him to do would have been to take off Padmé's pumps when he arrived at the Temple… but now, for some reason, he didn't really feel like parting with his wife's shoes.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said firmly, "it's a dare. It's not important. Take the shoes off."

"Yes. Master." Anakin sat down again and bent to take off one of the shoes. He tugged on the pink pump, but for some reason his foot remained stuck inside it. Frowning, he tugged harder. No luck – the shoe stayed on his foot. Frowning, Anakin went to his other foot and tugged on the adorning shoe. It, too, stayed firmly glued to his foot. Anakin looked up at his master.

Obi-Wan was trying not to laugh as he bent down to help his Padawan take off his shoes. However, Padmé's pumps seemed very attached to Anakin's feet. Despite all the tugging and pulling from both the Jedi, they did not come off.

After nearly fifteen minutes of trying in vain to get the shoes off of Anakin's feet, both Padawan and Master were sitting on the floor, panting from effort and trying not to laugh at the randomness of the scenario.

"Master," Anakin said after a moment, "how am I going to get these shoes off my feet?"

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "One, you could cut them off with a lightsaber… but that isn't recommended."

Anakin was decidedly against bringing a lightsaber within burning distance of his feet. The shoes were painful, but not _that_ painful.

"Or you could go see the Healers," Obi-Wan added, standing up.

Anakin snorted. "Do the Healers normally specialize in taking off stuck shoes?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "Who knows – come on. You're no good walking around in pumps."

Anakin didn't stand up. He didn't really want to go to the Healers to get Padmé's shoes taken off his feet – what would they say? He could hide behind his dare story, but…

Twenty minutes later, Anakin found himself being dragged to the Healers by Obi-Wan. By the time he had been pulled through the entire Jedi Temple to the Healers' section, his feet had caught more attention than he wanted them to. Never in his life would he have imagined that his feet would be the centre of limelight one day in the Jedi Temple.

When Healer Kii'jo was called in to see him, she took one look at his feet and sighed exasperatedly.

"Padawan Skywalker," she said, "what _have_ you done to your feet?"

Anakin was beginning to regret the day he married Padmé.

"It was a dare!" he said quickly. "They're Reine Mallix's shoes… and they're stuck on my feet!"

"Hmm," Kii'jo said, bending forwards to examine the shining pink pumps. "I didn't think that Reine Mallix _liked_ the Nubian shoe style…"

Anakin winced.

_Oops._

"But not that it matters. I'll see what I can do."

This was turning out to be the worst day in Anakin's career as a Jedi.

* * *

Night on Coruscant couldn't come quickly enough. Padmé was relaxing on one of the sofas in her sitting room, having just enjoyed a full day of walking around comfortably in her husband's Jedi boots. When she heard the door slide open and Anakin's thudding announce his arrival, she smiled, wondering how his day in her shoes had gone.

Anakin's face was very red as he threw himself down on the couch opposite hers. He looked very worn out and, too her amazement, her pink pumps were still clasped tightly on to his feet. She was amazed that they even fit.

"Something wrong, dear?" she asked casually.

Anakin groaned. _"No,"_ he said grumpily. "Only that these blasted shoes _won't come off!"_

Padmé chuckled. "Are we agreed that all shoes are different, now?"

Anakin threw up his hands in the air. "Yes! Fine! You win! All shoes are different! I only just spent all of today running around the Jedi Temple trying to get the blasted things off, tripping over everything, having Healer Kii'jo attempt to amputate my feet so they could get them off, having me go crashing into Master Yoda several thousand times, blaming Reine Mallix for the shoes and then _paying_ her to cover up for me when she walked into the room and Obi-Wan started questioning her about them and then…" He stopped speaking suddenly.

Padmé was kneeling on the floor next to him, looking intently at his feet. She glanced up at him, shaking her head and sighing. Then she undid two little clasps at the back of the shoes and pulled them easily off her irritated husband's feet.

She raised her eyebrows and lifted the shoes up.

"Oh," was all Anakin could say.

"That's all right, dear," she said, kissing him on the cheek. "We'll forgive the Jedi for being daft on the subject of shoes. Besides, I had a most comfortable day today…"


End file.
